


Unexpected Serendipity

by ArtisanGriffinKane



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Kabby, Kabby Fluff, Kabby smut, kabby s2-s3 peaceful place
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 16:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12845043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtisanGriffinKane/pseuds/ArtisanGriffinKane
Summary: This is going to be a serie of random Kabby one-shots set between s2 and s3. In that safe place we like that much (sometimes in the canon universe, sometimes not). Abby is the Chancellor and of course Marcus is madly in love with her. We will go from fluff to smut, passing by sexual tension to whatever will please me, because these two are just too good to stop writing.





	Unexpected Serendipity

 

 

“Abby, can I burrow your pad? Because I-” Marcus stopped dead in his tracks as soon as his eyes had landed on the _scene_ in front of him.

 

Abby was standing on one of her feet, up on a ladder, her face hidden behind one column on the ceiling of the war room, her right arm was stretched toward it, while the other one was gripping firmly on the metallic ladder, supporting her light weight.

 

“What the hell?” he muttered, his eyes roamed over the floor, an incredible amount of papers were scattered all over it, right upon a giant sheet of plastic that was covered in dozens of what looked like paint spots. “Abby?” he said, while resting his hands on his hips, tilting his head to get a better look at the woman in front of him.

 

“Marcus? Sorry, just a second.” she muttered, and then she bent down a bit, tilting her head. Her long ponytail fell on her left shoulder, she smiled. “Hey there, sorry I'm a little busy with something here, you needed something?” she asked him, her eyes already shifting toward the ceiling once again.

 

Marcus raised a curious eyebrow and then crossed his arms. “What are you doing Abby?” he asked, more curious than angry for the mess that simply seemed to follow the woman wherever she went.

 

“What?” Abby asked, already focused on the cold metal above her head.

 

“Are you painting?” he asked, noticing the stains of paint on her bare arms, and on her black shirt, nor to mention the ones on her tight jeans. Abby blinked and looked down at him, relaxing her muscles once again.

 

“Maybe?” she said, smiling at him and batting her lashes. Marcus tilted his head and cleared his throat.

 

“Are you painting the ceiling?” he asked once again, at that Abby huffed and rolled her eyes, stepping slowly down the ladder.

 

“I am painting, yes. So? What's the problem with that?” she said, huffing and leaving a dirty brush over the desk at her side. She was quiet a vision now, her hair messy, her clothes that once were completely black, were now covered with white irregular dots. Some drops of sweat were rolling down her forehead, following a forbidden path over her neck, down to her collarbone, till that tiny strap of skin in the valley between her breasts that-

 

“Marcus?” her voice made him blink furiously. “What are you looking at?” she asked, looking down at herself. Marcus blinked again and parted his lips.

 

“I- what?” he said, asking himself if he had been staring right _there_ for real, or if it had been just his imagination . Abby raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, tilting her entire body to the side, in her Chancellor style.

 

“Are you ok?” she asked, and Marcus nodded instinctively.

 

“Yeah... why you ask?” he cleared his throat and tried to find something to look at that wasn't her, or the deep neckline on her chest.

 

“You don't seem to be fine.” she said, and in a matter of seconds she was already pacing toward him, reaching out for his forehead, in full doctor mode. Marcus took several steps back.

 

“I'm fine Abby, no need to check on me.” he said ,raising his hands in front of his chest, as if like that he could force her to step back and leave him alone. Of course he already knew this was never going to happen. But eventually she stopped.

 

“Mh-mh, sure you are.” she hummed, crossing her arms. Her expression though told him that she wasn't at all done with him. “So, why are you here?” she asked, turning on her heels and cleaning some dust from her pants.

 

“Right, I was searching for your pad, I need to check on some documents Sinclair sent you.” he said, his eyes already scanning the room for a hint of where it could be. Abby pointed her finger toward the desk without even looking.

 

“Over there.” she said, while bending down and trying to scratch a stain of paint from one of her boots.

 

Marcus approached the desk, trying to get where _over there_ meant to Abby, since the desk was filled with papers and pencils, pieces of plastic and dirty brushes, all along with a pair jar full to the brim. “Can I ask you something?” he said, when he had found the poor thing hidden under an entire stack of paperwork.

 

Abby hummed without looking at him. “Why do you need to make _this_ amount of mess whenever you do something?” he said, turning the pad on and starting to search for the document he needed. Abby looked at him and pursed her lips.

 

“Excuse me?” she said, while roaming her gaze over the room, she widened her eyes briefly, as if finally taking in the actual mess she had done. Marcus smirked and looked at her.

 

“You heard me Abby.” he said, amusement coloring his voice. Abby parted her lips, crossed her arms and then lifted her shoulders.

 

“That's just how I work.” she said, looking at him smugly. Marcus' smirk grew deeper, she noticed, because suddenly her lips were curving into a teasing grin too.

 

“I see. So you need chaos to do stuff, is that right?” he asked, sighing out, taking a final look around him. The war room was a mess indeed, and he had been away for just a couple of hours... _that woman._

 

“Probably. I mean this is _my_ room after all, I can do anything I want with it.” she spatted, clearing her throat and leaning her hips toward the desk.

 

“I'm pretty sure this is not your room Abby.” he said, resting one hand over his side. Abby raised her eyebrow.

 

“It isn't?” she asked, then blinked and shrugged. “I mean I am the Chancellor, every room here is mine.” she said, her eyes shifting from side to side, even her didn't believe a word she was saying. But Marcus had to admit, she was amusing him, trying to find an excuse for the mess she couldn't help to create around her.

 

“Oh right, you own the place, isn't it?” he said, suppressing a chuckle. Abby nodded, smiling to herself.

 

“Very indeed, it's about damn time you admit it.” she said, relaxing her arms once again, walking away from the desk, looking up at the ceiling. Marcus smiled softly, looking at her while she was lost once again into the paint coloring the cold metal above their heads.

 

He approached her from behind and followed her gaze toward the ceiling. “So... when do you think it will be finished? Because I called you months ago to do the work, you also made quiet a mess around here. I should call your boss and let him now about your behavior.” he joked, shifting his eyes from the ceiling to the woman few inches from him. She was so close to him that her scent invaded him. She smelled as acrid paint and strong coffee.

 

“Ah ah, very funny Marcus. Listen, If you took care of these stuff I wouldn't be doing it all myself.” Abby said.

 

“Taking care of what exactly Abby? Painting the war room? I don't see why this should be one of my priorities.” he said, while Abby rolled her eyes. “I saw you.” he warned her, and at that Abby chuckled softly.

  
“I'm serious Marcus. Painting the rooms isn't that useless as you may think. I mean, I like the old Ark style and all.” she started to say, walking away from him. “But have you ever thought about the fact that we already lived into metal boxes? All our lives? Why don't we try to make this place look less like the Ark and more like... a _home_?” her final word got stuck into her throat for few seconds, then she lowered her gaze to her dirty boots, and started working on a stubborn stain of paint on her skin.

 

Marcus sighed out, he recognized the look on her face. She was thinking of Clarke now, he could see it in the way her eyes had turned darker somehow, how her lips had shifted into a strict line, how her whole body had tensed and she could hardly meet his eyes.

 

“You know what?” he said, approaching her slowly, Abby hummed quietly, without looking at him. “You're right.”at his words she looked up, her eyes blinking.

 

“What did you say?” her eyebrows furrowed, and he had to suppress a smirk.

 

“We should add some color to the rooms.” he said, smiling softly. At that the heavy look disappeared, and her irises were shimmering once again. She smiled, it was bright and felt real, and Marcus couldn't help but stare at her lips while she kept smiling.

 

“Thank you Marcus.” she said, and at her words he looked up again, she was staring at him fondly, and for a moment he remained silent, looking back at her with equal affection. “It means a lot to me.” she said softly, bowing her head once again, hiding her soft smile from him. Marcus wanted to lift her chin and look her straight in the eyes, but he forced himself to not touch her now.

 

The thing was that he knew they weren't the old Abby and Marcus anymore, but at the same time he didn't know exactly where they were standing now. He knew just that they were balancing each other, that there was this kind of peaceful harmony hovering around them, and that was something too precious to ruin it. So he kept his distance, swallowed quietly and nodded.

 

“You are the Chancellor after all, everything you ask me is an order.” he said, and at his words Abby giggled.

 

“I couldn't say it better.” she joked, smirking softly at him. And once again he had to restrain himself to walk a little closer to her, just to feel the warmth of her body, to smell her coffee breath or the scent of her hair, he knew they smelled as herbs and almond oil, he had sniffed it so many times whenever she had came in the war room without drying her hair in the morning, too busy with filling papers to take care of herself.

 

“You're staring Marcus.” she softly said after a while. Marcus blinked at that, and Abby smiled. “What is it?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, leaning slightly toward him, searching for the answer in his eyes, as if she couldn't wait for him to deliver it to her, as if she knew exactly how and where to find it on her own.

 

The funny fact was that she indeed could do that. She could read him as an open book, and sometimes this notion scared him to death.

 

“I was thinking.... do we have other colors except of white?” he said, and at his words Abby blinked an then crossed her arms.

 

“I have no idea.” she said, and at that Marcus nodded, turning on the pad in his hands, typing a message for Sinclair.

 

“Don't worry about it, I will take care of it from now on.” he said, smiling at her. Abby frowned.

 

“Hey, the idea is mine, shouldn't I be the one to decide?” she asked him, raising her _Chancellor_ eyebrow. Marcus smiled.

 

“You said it yourself, I should be the one to take care of these things, also... I think you could use a shower, or maybe two.” he said, looking at the poor state of her clothes. Abby blinked and blushed slightly.

 

“Hey, is not like you are that much better than me.” she said, gesturing toward his old shirt and pants. Some dry mud was on the hem of his black pants, and his gray shirt was covered in dust. He had been working on the fences the whole morning and hadn't had a chance to change.

 

“Then we should both take a shower.” he said, and realized how it sounded just when he had already said it. Abby widened her eyes at first and then smirked, humming and nodding with herself.

 

“Are you implying we should take a shower, _together_?” she joked, while taking her jacket from the chair it was resting on. Marcus chuckled nervously and shook his head, clearing his dry throat.

 

“I would never imply something like that Abby, you're the Chancellor, that's probably even forbidden by the exodus chart.” he said, humming with himself, trying to avoid eye contact with her. She looked pretty amused, while he felt more than simply slightly embarrassed now.

 

“Yeah, you're probably right.” she whispered roughly, walking past him, smirking one last time, before opening the door and flashing him a teasing look. “See you later, councilor.” she said, while walking outside, disappearing in the hallway.

 

When the door closed behind her back with a soft thud, and Marcus was left alone in the room, he realized that Abby's mess was still scattered all over the place. “Oh come on...” he muttered under his breath, realizing she wasn't going to clean up, since he had accepted the job he was the one that had to do that.

 

_Of course._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Three days. It had been three days since Abby had been forced away from the war room, while Marcus kept hiding inside of it, without giving her a chance to see what he was doing.

 

 _How long it takes to paint four walls?_ She kept asking herself. It was frustrating not knowing what was going on in the war room, _her_ room. Ok technically it wasn't hers, it was _theirs,_ or more precisely it belonged to the chancellor and the rest of the council, but she had the right to go there and take a look.

 

That was why she had decided to do as she wanted and forced herself in. If Marcus didn't want to please her, then she was going to do it herself. And so she was pacing angrily toward the war room now, her boots stepping loudly in the empty hallway of Alpha station. When she found herself in front of the door, she stopped. She wanted to storm in and get it over with, but at the same time she didn't want to fight with Marcus, so eventually she decided to knock.

 

After few seconds of silence, the unique sound of his boots walking on the floor reached her, and he opened the door. His hair were messy, his shirt was covered in dozens of colorful dots of paint. He was cleaning his hands on a dirty towel, and his skin was covered in shades of orange and red, blue and purple.

 

“Marcus, what the hell?” she spatted, taking in the messy man in front of her. Marcus didn't seem surprised to see her.

 

“Abby, I was wondering when you would get tired of waiting.” he said, a smug grin already growing in the corner of his lips. Abby raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

 

“Oh really? Maybe that's because you have been hiding here for three entire days? Without even letting me in? Me? The Chancellor?” she said, raising her chin in defiance, trying to look as more offended as she could. At that Marcus' grin grew even deeper and his eyes shimmered with something Abby couldn't quiet name, but she recognized it, it was always there when she started blathering about her Chancellor privileges. She liked that look, it felt familiar and besides... it suited him.

 

“You want to come in?” he said, opening the door for her, granting her access. Abby at first blinked, honestly surprised by this turn of events, but then cleared her throat and nodded.

 

“Of course I want to.” she said sternly, stepping in without wasting another second.

 

It was when she had finally a chance to take a look at the inside that she widened her eyes and her breath shortened.

 

The war room had never looked better. The metal walls were covered in dozens of shades of colors, from the orange shade of the setting sun, to the green of the trees growing outside Arkadia's fences. Every wall was a different view of the world. Every inch of their cold metal was gone, it didn't seem a part of the Ark anymore, it looked as a giant canvas that grew in every direction around her.

 

The ceiling was a clear sky in a corner and a burning sun in another. Every shade of color made Abby feel something different. Then was when she realized there were dozens of flowers that were adorning the room, and then was when she finally was able to smell their scent.

 

Sweet, deep, rich, fresh. The room smelled as spring, and Abby felt almost the need to cry. It was so beautiful, it felt so different from the room she had left three days ago. Now it looked as something entirely different.

 

She was so absorbed into staring at every painted wall, that didn't hear Marcus approaching her from behind.

 

“I took a look at some books from Mount Weather, and I asked around to the kids, I think these are some of Clarke's favorite paintings, I'm not sure about every each one of them, but I-” but Abby didn't let him finish, and without thinking, she turned toward him and her arms wrapped around him.

 

He stiffened at first, the dirty towel he was holding fell on the floor. She pressed her face against his warm shirt and sniffed in the smell of acrid paint trapped inside of its light fabric. “Thank you.” she managed to whisper, before some quiet tears started to flow from her eyes, soaking his shirt wet.

 

Marcus didn't seem to mind, and after a moment of hesitation, his arms wrapped around her too. His touch was delicate and trembling, but when he had gained enough confidence, he started to squeeze her gently, and she melted into his embrace. Her hands were resting on his shoulders, until she couldn't take it any longer and she squeezed the fabric of his shirt inside of her hands, sobbing quietly.

 

“It's ok Abby.” he whispered in her hair, the warmth of his breath made her shiver, she ignored the feeling and tried to focus on something else. But then the sound of his frantic heartbeat started to pound insistently inside of her head, and she felt overwhelmed. She parted from him abruptly, and blinked her eyes, looking up at him.

 

“Sorry.” she muttered, wiping away few wild tears from her cheeks with the hem of her shirt. Marcus smiled softly, shoving his hands inside of his pockets.

 

“No reason to be. You're the Chancellor after all.” he tried to joke. But Abby was too busy with feeling emotional now and didn't get the hint. She sniffed, while her eyes kept roaming avidly around herself, taking in every detail. She recognized some of the paintings now, and she had to say Marcus had been really good with them, he was almost as good as Clarke.

 

The thought made her sob. Marcus sighed and tensed on his feet. “Is this okay with you?” he whispered, and Abby looked at him with questioning eyes.

 

“Seriously? Marcus... this is...” she was having a hard time finding the words. “This is beautiful.” she whispered eventually, her glassy eyes blurring her vision. She then looked at him once again, he was observing her carefully, trying to get a hint of what she was feeling, but she couldn't give him any, she was too overwhelmed to get them herself.

 

“You did all of this for me?” she asked, her index finger moving randomly all around the room. Marcus at first remained expressionless, his deep eyes glued on her, then he smiled.

 

“You asked me to, remember?” he said softly, Abby shook her head, half sobbing half chuckling.

 

“Actually I asked you to paint the walls. But this...” she roamed her eyes once again over the dozens of colors and shapes that were around her. “This is way more than just a bit of color Marcus.” she said, sniffing one last time. He shrugged.

 

“What can I say? I like to please my Chancellor.” he said, smirking softly. Abby chuckled, wiping away another couple of tears.

 

“Oh yes, you do for sure.” she said, nodding and smiling softly. “This is amazing, really Marcus. You did an amazing job.” she said, leaning toward the desk at her back, suddenly feeling how weak her legs were. “An amazing job...” she repeated absentmindedly, while her eyes couldn't stop looking around herself.

 

It was so beautiful.

 

“I'm glad you like it.” he whispered, approaching her, leaning against the desk, looking up at the ceiling himself, accompanying her in the journey between the paintings above them. They remained quiet for several minutes, quietly observing Marcus' work, then she sighed out, closing her eyes.

 

“What is it?” he asked, without looking at her yet. Abby shook her head.

 

“I just...” she swallowed, clearing her throat, her heart was pounding rapidly once again. “If only she could see this.” she said, knowing she didn't need to add anything more, Marcus knew her better than anyone else around here, he always understood her pain.

 

“She will.” he murmured, leaning slightly toward her, and without warning, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders, and he almost _forced_ her to lean against him. As if by doing so he could lift some of her sorrow from her, taking some of her pain for her, helping her carry it, she knew that if he could, he would do that.

 

But unfortunately, this was something that went beyond his power, and she had to live with it, he had to do the same. But it almost felt as if it was harder for him, seeing her in pain seemed to make him suffer too.

 

“She will see it Abby.” he said again, looking down at her. She lifted her gaze and get lost momentarily inside of his black irises.

 

“I hope so.” she whispered, not able to add anything else, afraid her voice could brake even more, afraid _she_ could brake even more. He smiled softly and squeezed her shoulder. They had never shared such an intimate gesture before, but for some reason she couldn't quiet understand, she didn't mind, not at all.

 

“Trust me. She is way too smart to not come back home eventually.” he whispered. The word _home_ echoed in the silence for a while, and Abby had to close her eyes once more, leaning completely against him, she hid her face in the crook of his neck, and stayed there.

 

He held her until they both grew too tired to keep standing. And then they walked to the couch and sat there, together, side by side, gazing at the paintings that were shimmering around them. The acrid smell of fresh paint was still hovering in the air, but neither seem to care. They remained in the war room for the entire night. He talked to her about every single painting, and they laughed and they smiled.

 

For a moment it almost felt as if Clarke had never left, as if she was still there with them. And that was probably what Marcus had wanted to achieve, and Abby didn't know how to show him how grateful she was for that.

 

He had saved her, and he still didn't know.

 

When the night grew dark and silent, and the dim lights in the room had been turned on since several hours, Abby's eyes grew heavier, Marcus' voice lulled her until she fell asleep, her head resting on his shoulder.

 

When he kissed her hair, with trembling lips, she was already lost into some colorful dream about Clarke, and didn't see the look in his eyes while he watched over her, until his eyes grew too tired too and he fell asleep himself.

 

In the morning both would have sore necks and painful muscles, but for the time being, neither of them cared.

 


End file.
